


Stolen Flannel

by allthebeautifulthings9828



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Autumn, Bunker Fic, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Fallen Castiel, Falling In Love, Fluff, Human Castiel, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, POV Castiel, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthebeautifulthings9828/pseuds/allthebeautifulthings9828
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Castiel learns to be human, he's surprised at how sensitive the human body is to seasons. His first autumn arrives and he begins stealing Dean's clothes to keep warm. When Dean discovers it, he surprisingly lets it happen. And when nighttime in the bunker gets too cold for Castiel, he lets a few other things happen too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen Flannel

The weather's starting to turn. Castiel feels it before the leaves start fading to copper, rust, and milky chocolate from the vibrant grassy greens he'd come to appreciate in Kansas. He spends a lot more time studying colors now that he's human and can't see the molecules and photosynthesis happening everywhere around him. He even considers studying art. The way humans see colors in such a simplistic, uncomplicated manner truly strikes him as beautiful.

He doesn't say anything to Sam and Dean though. They're always in such a hurry, on to the next case, or tracking down a way to find Metatron. The truth is, Castiel isn't so fixated on finding his grace anymore but he knows Dean needs that sense of revenge. He lets the hunter do what he needs.

A chill creeps across Kansas for the first time while Dean and Sam are in Arkansas tracking a werewolf. The cold sensation takes Castiel by surprise, as if something's wrong with his body's ability to regulate temperature. But by the fourth day of a chill, he realizes human bodies are so sensitive to heat and cold. People in Lebanon start wearing more layers and even coats, which perplex Castiel. Still, he wished he had a jacket too, but Dean only left enough money for food.

That's the day Castiel begins stealing clothes from Dean's room. A long-sleeved Henley and then a blue flannel shirt on top. He feels fantastic encased in soft fabrics, and yes, surrounded by Dean's smell.

And when Dean returns from Arkansas, swaggering and boasting about his great kill shot, he takes a double take.

"You wearing my clothes?" he asks.

"I was cold, Dean," Castiel replies.

There's hesitation in Dean's green eyes, the color of spring, Castiel thinks, but he doesn't seem angry. He doesn't even tell the former angel to quit stealing his clothes. Day by day, he leaves his bedroom door cracked after he's gone, an open invitation as meaningful as it is wordless. Neither of them seem to care about buying Castiel his own clothes for the autumn and winter. They both seem silently satisfied with their little arrangement.

The bunker is built into the ground, though, which means it stays cool all year round. But the colder weather brings with it a colder ground. Castiel burrows deeper and deeper in the nest of blankets on his bed, but after a while, it's not enough.

Sleepy silence engulfs the place as Castiel pads down the hall with his sweatpants flopping around his bare ankles. He doesn't remember where the thermostat is, nor does he remember what Dean said about fooling with it, but it doesn't matter. He's freezing. He's not yet accustomed to the peculiar sensitivity of the human body.

As he passes Dean's bedroom, he sees the door is cracked in that unspoken invitation just like it was every morning. Was it intentional? Did he do that every night? Castiel knew he should move on but his curiosity wouldn't let him move.

Suddenly, Dean's face materializes from the darkness in his room. It startles Castiel and his body jerks with the shock. Those strange moments of not being in control of his body still bother him. He's embarrassed. He shuffles where he stands, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Cas?" It's only one word but Dean questions a lot.

He manages to meet eyes with the hunter again. "I was cold, Dean."

At first, no words pass between them. The silence in the corridor brings heat around the back of Castiel's neck where he'd just rubbed it. Dean's eyes drop and his lips rub together the way he always looked when he considered something weighty.

"Well..." he begins, passing it off with a shrug, "...it's warmer in here."

Castiel's head tilted. "You're inviting me into your room?"

Blank green eyes filled with a short burst of laughter. "Get your ass in here, Cas."


End file.
